Hi, I’m Rachel, you might know me as a poet, (which I totally am,) but I am more than that. Namely, I am also a bumbling person here to share some of my thoughts with you in hopes they might bring you some ease and comfort.
Sometimes I receive quirky little downloads from the universe that make their way through my soul-ar system and come out as a little nugget known as an inspirachel.
I am grateful to The Wisdom Daily for giving me the opportunity to share some of these inspirachels with you.
I am no sage, just a passionate awkward human trying to get from A to B and hoping that some of these words will be of use to you. Even if it’s just a little smile you receive, I call that a win!
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I used to be a hard-core ballet dancer, spending my summers on the East Coast at programs with Russian names where we danced from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm (and I would have gone longer if they asked that of us.) I constantly had bloody, blistered, bruised feet. The smell of Dep and Aqua Net really take me back. I was a bonafide bunhead. I remember sleeping with encyclopedias on my knees to increase my turnout. (Kids, don’t try this at home. It’s incredibly stupid.)
All this to say I was really into it. I may be faulted for many things, but not my level of commitment. I love being hopelessly devoted.
I was at the so-called “pinnacle” of my so-called “career” (meaning, I was 16 and doing The Nutcracker Ballet, (a staple of amateur civic ballet companies and studios full of kids since–I guess–the sixties.) I wasn’t a star, but I had a solo in Waltz of the Snowflakes and a duet moment in Waltz of the Flowers. I was livin’.
I remember watching a video of my performance. I was in the zone, in the flow, doin’ the dang thang as much as I could get it done. I was bone thin, (something praised and encouraged in that world at that time. I hope that’s lightened up a bit.) My technique was legit.
…and I looked, well, sorta goofy. On the bell curve, I am on the narrow end of the higher goofiness quotient.
Make no mistake, I don’t mean to say that I am not intense or deadly serious in my acts of devotion. It’s just that I can… sometimes… look kinda goofy when in the throes of them.
I decided there was no room for my goofiness in ballet.
Nobody tried to tell me that.
It was something I saw in the video.
In an uncharacteristic teendom moment of detached presence, self-awareness and peace, I saw that I could never fully shoehorn myself into the ballet mold, and also, that what I had to offer would not get full expression in the world of ballet.
I’d be lucky to be in the corps de ballet (a background dancer) for a major company.
And to even do that, I would have had to blend much better than I do.
I don’t blend. I stick out, even when I am trying not to. I didn’t want to feel bad about that anymore. Plus, I was starving. I also just really wanted a bagel. With actual cream cheese.
I wanted to fully expand to my natural wingspan, goofy feathers and all. I walked away from ballet forever, from 13 years of devotion, and never looked back.
In the dream, I see everyone expanded to their respective natural wingspan, taking creative risks, following their bliss, doing what suits them, embracing their own intensity, while being as goofy as they wanna be.